


Grace for Sale

by coricomile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The devil always gets his due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace for Sale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



"Hello, old friend," Mycroft says. The man in the doorway looks the same as he always had, too old and too young at the same time. He tips his hat and sits in the chair across from Mycroft. "What are you calling yourself these days?"

"James will do," the man says. He accepts the glass Mycroft hands to him, sipping idly. 

"What brings you after all this time?" Mycroft asks. He doesn't have time for games, not really, but he's never been able to resist James. Not since the day at the bridge. Not since his first real taste of victory.

"I see you still think yourself clever," James says. He folds his hands, leaning back in his chair. Mycroft gives him a bland smile. 

"A wise man never says he is wise, and a foolish man calls it his claim." Mycroft touches the pendant under his shirt, raising an eyebrow. He's worn it since he was a child, so many centuries ago. It's still warm with hellfire, unpleasant against his skin. Another bet won, his life forever safe from the darkness of death. 

He's been waiting for James to attempt to take it back for a long while now. 

"You've tested my patience for too long, child," James says. His mouth, pink and full and partially hidden by his goatee, twists.

"It's been a long time since I was a child." Mycroft remembers it the same way he remembers everything else. His mind aches sometimes with the fullness of it. He'd been a sickly thing, small and too smart for his own good. Immortality has not changed his tendency to illness, but it has removed the threat. 

"Too long," James agrees.

"Shall we make another bet?" Mycroft asks. He presses his lips to his fingers and considers what he wants. He has helped people, he has killed people. He has raised and ruined countries, shaped the world in small steps. He has lived lives with wives and children, lived lives where he never tied himself down. He has grown so old.

"You won't win forever," James says. He takes another sip of scotch, the liquor boiling on his breath, and pulls a parchment from his front pocket. Mycroft takes it from him and begins to write his terms. "The devil always gets his due."

"Not always," Mycroft says. He signs the parchment and hands it back. "Not always."

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed the idea of Mycroft as something not quite human anymore, and that eventually led to the idea of him being a continuation of [Jack o'Kent](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_o%27_Kent), a man that tricked the devil on a regular basis. If anyone's going to do it, it would be Mycroft. I hope you enjoy, lynndyre.


End file.
